the whole topic of religion was once more thrown into perspective when i met up with a straight mate (i seem to have a lot of straight people for friends, don't I?) who works with me in the ward. it was a chance outing with a few other nurses, all of us acquainted through the orientation program the hospital put us through during the February and March that just passed. thus, for the first time in our working lives, the both of us made dirty conversation about women and sex over fine Arabic teas and shisha. it's a bit redundant given that the both of us are smokers in the first place. but nothing beats the combined inhalation of Marlboro Lights and apple-flavored shisha in one intake of breath.

i know there's a question that irks you at this point in time: 'WOMEN AND SEX over fine Arabic teas and shisha?' scandal! down with the straight-acting homosexual scum! yada yada blah blah. the aforementioned phrase sounds as compatible as a Gentile and a Pharisee put together during the perilous times of Jesus and Jerusalem.

i know i'm proud to be an all-out Singaporean gay person, but there are times when one has to admittedly, remain tactical and take down the Rainbow-colored flag that's flying over one's head. for this group of nursing people whom i went out with, i really couldn't be bothered having to explain penile-inclinations and be the Encyclopedia Brown of the gay society all over again. besides, most of them female friends were there with their absolutely hawt mat boyfriends whom i have had never the previous pleasure of meeting. it is thus i graciously retreat into my oak armoire to take in my fair share of voyeuristic visual pleasure.

this post will not be about my sexual orientation kept secret from the select few. neither will it be about the nursing orientation program people that i went out with. but rather, my straight male ah beng (a local term for a Chinese street hooligan) colleague from the ward and his bizarre inclination to be a Christian. so, to facilitate this post, let's give him a title of his own, shall we? i'm gonna call him THE PANGKENG, adapted from the fact that 'pangkeng' seems to be his favorite swear word following (in order of number of times used in a day):

1) Pang Keng
2) Chee Bye
3) Kan Ni Nah
4) Nauh Buay Chee Bye
5) Fuck you, you understand?

in case you don't understand the local Singaporean dialect of Hokkien, all the above mentioned swear words are with reference to female genitalia and the act of intercourse. Pangkeng being the words that The Pangkeng apparently uses most of the time. the first time i heard the word, i oh-so-innocently asked The Pangkeng what he meant. he just shrugged and used his fifth favorite swearing phrase in the list. so i simply took it at face value to mean just that. upon intensive investigation however, another straight mate of mine revealed that to 'Pangkeng' would be indeed to fuck. but it has it's origins derived from the act of looking for a room/place to 'Pangkeng' in in the first place. after all, 'Pangkeng' in Hokkien literally means a room. and thus, my colleague has been crowned The Pangkeng (insert music of a menacing tone).

now, The Pangkeng is very much the typical alpha-male - brash, swearing too much, drinking too much, smoking too much, sweating too much, a tad overweight, acne-prone and testosterone-overloaded. everything about The Pangkeng seems to be in excess. but he has one absolute redeeming factor, a heart of gold and morals of platinum standards. he's the only enrolled nurse i know who would kick the lazy patients on their asses and drag them to the toilet for a shower. a typical patient-practitioner conversation with him would go something like this:

The Pangkeng: Hoi, Mr. Tan, today you want to go toilet bathe or not?

Mr. Tan: No i don't want lah. My wound very painful.

The Pangkeng: your wound very painful because you lie in bed the whole day and never move. come lah, go bathe lah.

Mr. Tan: Don't want. Just sponge me today.

The Pangkeng: No, no i don't care. Go and bathe.

and at this point, The Pangkeng with his unseeming superhuman strength carries the patient, puts him on the commode and pushes him to the toilet for a bath. and a bath never fails to refreshen the patient and make him forget all about pain. of course, The Pangkeng makes my biceps look like a by-product of plastic surgery - it looks real, but is it real? i can't seem to carry any patient without first thinking through the best tactic and maneuvers and body mechanics to use when moving a patient. whereas The Pangkeng just uses pure brute strength (and perhaps his heart of gold) to pull the patient around as if he were shifting a bag of feathers. and as a side note, isn't a bag of feathers a pillow?

but i digress. now, throughout all the smoking sessions that i've had with The Pangkeng before, after and during work, i've slowly gotten to know him more than just at face value. the time he told me he's been a Christian for nearly a year and a half, i gave him the 'i'm cool with it' look. but deep down inside, the Bible-Presbyterian in me was displaying a scandalized one. not that i want to judge, but aren't smoking, drinking and cussing a little bit off the Lord's good books? i tried to think of every possible way to rationalize the whole concept of combining vices with a one-way ticket to Heaven.

maybe it's some new form of religion where you only have to set the standards for yourself? or perhaps it's one of those 'the thought that counts' kinda religion, where all you have to do is have every intention to be the good person that you are, so that when you die, you can proudly proclaim your intent and earn your admission ticket through the Pearly Gates.

it was during the shisha session that i broached The Pangkeng regarding this juxtaposition of vices and religion.

'I don't mean to be offensive, but how come a Christian like you still can drink and smoke?'

A drag of the cigarette and a few seconds of awkward silence ensued.

'I think we all have our own weaknesses,' the Pangkeng said, 'but the most important thing is that i'm trying to quit lor.'

'Trying and actually succeeding are two different things bro. i try to quit masturbating, but i haven't quit yet. Do you think everybody still loves me any more when i tell them i'm trying?'

'But you see, God sees the heart'

'Yah. I only wish he didn't see my private parts while in the process of quitting,' i thought to myself.

My inner Bible-Presbyterian at this point of time was procrastinating against a slander of religion. i was brought up on the knowledge that good works alone cannot save you. a firm belief and respect for God and all his rules and regulations (on top of good works) will win you the top prize of an eternal holiday in the Bahamas of the Heavens. which obviously, is not very well-reflected in the alpha-male characteristics of The Pangkeng. i really respect The Pangkeng from the bottom of my heart. he's the first ever chap i've known in nursing to be so enthusiastic to help the patients get well soon. plus he's a really good mate, always giving me cigarettes when i'm out of gas. but it's because of all his flaws, that i've got a feeling that my dearest smoking buddy will not get admitted entrance at Fort Heaven when kingdom comes.

but who am i to judge? i'm the gay boy, scorned of God and the Teo family. sigh. religion. i'm going to admit defeat, retreat once more to my oak armoire, let God see me playing with my privates and indulging in my mat-watching voyeuristic tendencies.

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